Woo-hoo! Back from the dead again! And yay for twisting the Hellmouth
being back as well. Wanted to have this chapter ready the second it came
back to celebrate, but the Buffy/Spike stuff just wouldn't work out for me.
Still not sure if it really works, so let me know. And for all of you who
were terrified of what I've done to poor Dawny and Legolas, but were kind
enough to have faith in me when I asked you to, this is my pay-off to you
all. Only a couple of chapters left to go in this one, and a big thank you
for everyone who's been involved, whether it be reading, reviewing, and the
multitude of advice you've all been willing to give whenever I've asked for
it. This one has been a lot more difficult to get out than its prequel,
but for my fantastic reviewers, I've been inspired to persevere. Thanks,
and enjoy.
~Anoron
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CHAPTER FIFTEEN- CLEANING UP
There was complete silence in the Summers home, save for the occasional sitfled sob coming from one of the women. Buffy sat still as stone, staring into nothingness, a strange sickness settling into the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she focused her gaze, shifting it around the room.
Giles had his glasses off. His eyes were closed and his hand was massaging his temple. There were shiny tracks down his cheeks from the few tears that had trickled down from beneath the closed lids. Xander was pacing in the foyer, his jaw set and his fists clenched by his side, his entire disposition seemed poised for a fight. Unfortunately, it seemed he could find nothing to fight. Willow and Tara were cuddled up together on the couch, sobbing silently into each other's arms. Anguish was written all over their faces. Buffy's eyes raked over the last being in the room, sitting quietly in a corner. Since Dawn's death, Spike had barely spoken two words to any of them, and yet she could tell he wasn't in the complete and utter agony he had been in after Dawn's first death.
Buffy studied Spike's face intently, watching for a sign of any sort of feeling. As the Slayer stared, the shuttered look on Spike's face slowly gave way to a small, contented smile, as if a pleasant thought had just occurred to the vampire. She glared at him, though Spike didn't notice. Buffy fumed silently at Spike's obvious moment of peace. There was no peace left in the world since Dawn was gone, and he had no right pretending there was!
Spike, absently fingering something in his pocket that rustled like a piece of paper, stood and slipped down into his basement room. Barely noticed by the others, Buffy followed.
Spike looked up as he heard Buffy's shoes clunking down the steps and hastily stuffed the crumpled note he'd been reading back into his pocket. Buffy's eyes narrowed.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Spike said quickly.
"Then why did you hide it?"
Spike tried to give a casual shrug. "Cause it's got nothing to do with you, pet. What are you doing down here, anyway?"
For a moment, Buffy was lost for words. What was she supposed to say? She had come to yell at him because he smiled? Suddenly, angry as she was about everything these days, she realised the insanity of wanting to start a fight over a little smile. "I-. . ."
"You what, luv?"
"Nothing," Buffy said quickly.
Spike quirked an eyebrow at her. "You came charging all the way down here for nothing? Not exactly convincing, Slayer."
Buffy scowled. Anger started to cloud her sense of reason and she glared at Spike as if he was the source of all her troubles. But Buffy had become an open book to Spike a long time ago, and he read every page of her emotions easily.
"Pet, I know you're angry about-" he broke of, still not quite able to say her name. "About what's happened, but you can't just fall back on your usual blame Spike routine. That got old a long time ago."
"Why not!?" Buffy snapped. "It's all your fault! Always has been. If you had protected her the first time like you promised me, she never would have died in the first place!"
The Slayer was ranting without any vestiges of sense or reason, but she didn't care. She'd lost so much in her world, she felt like Dawn was the last thing she had to hold on to, and now she was gone. And it was all Spike's fault. Spike's blue eyes had become a stormy grey at Buffy's accusations. He tried to remain calm, he knew it wasn't true now, but his temper was rapidly heating up as he thought of all that Dawn had endured in the past month at all their hands.
"You failed her too," Spike said quietly.
A heartbeat later he was reeling from the force of Buffy's punch to his jaw. He rubbed his sore face as he turned back, but still managed a sadistic grin at the Slayer.
"Did it make you feel better, luv?"
Buffy hit him again. Then again. Deciding enough was enough, Spike fought back. Soon it had escalated into an all-out battle, Buffy screaming out all her frustrations as her blows rained down on Spike. She screamed for Dawn. For her mother. For Anya. For Miss Calendar. For everyone she'd ever failed. For herself.
Somewhere in Buffy's hysterical rantings, Spike snapped. He fought back with just as much venom as Buffy, and soon the pair were covered in cuts and bruises, and lay panting on the dusty basement floor. Spike was staring at the ceiling, Buffy was glaring at him. Before he could react, she reached over and ripped the piece of paper he had been reading earlier from his pocket.
"Hey!" Spike exclaimed, but it was too late.
Buffy had scrambled to her feet, out of his reach and opened up the piece of paper. It was a note, written in Dawn's handwriting, but that's all Buffy understood of it. A handful of strange words were scrawled across the page, and Buffy felt a stab of recognition at two of them in particular. Alta Nquel. She was sure she'd heard Dawn say that to Spike many times, when they thought she wasn't listening.
By now Spike was back on his feet. He ripped the note from Buffy's hands and stuffed it back into his leather duster. Buffy glared at him, and when she spoke, her voice shook with anger and fear.
"What the hell was that?"
"You don't want to know, luv," Spike responded truthfully.
"Yes I do! She was my sister, Spike. Mine! Not yours, and I have a right to know what that note said."
"Of course you do Buffy, it's all about you after all. Isn't it," Spike sneered. "Look at the Slayer, queen of the world with all the little people running around after her, cleaning up her mess. Of course all their business should be hers too, she's the Chosen One, the one who gets to know it all. Right!?"
"Tell me where she was!"
"She was happy."
The second the words were out of his mouth, Spike froze. He'd just broken his promise to Dawn. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. 'Amin hiraetha, Tarien' he thought, meaning it with all his dead heart. [I'm sorry, Princess]
Spike didn't even see the blow coming. Buffy's fist connected with his temple so hard he slipped into oblivion, knocked unconscious.
* * * * *
// I thought I could live in your world,
As years all went by, I. . .
With all the voices I've heard,
Something has died. . . //
She was sitting in her favourite courtyard again, staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.
Legolas felt a tear well up in his eye unexpectedly. He missed Dawn. Every time he looked at her, spoke to her or tried to touch her, she pulled away from him. He was terrified to admit had no idea how to reach her anymore. Her eyes, once so vibrant and expressive, were shuttered to him now. He could no longer tell what she was thinking and feeling by a look. Legolas bitterly wondered of she was even feeling anything anymore. Valar knew she wouldn't talk to him. Wouldn't say what had happened to hurt her so badly, who had done this to her. Wouldn't let him in. She hadn't spoken to Arwen or the twins about her pain, either. No matter how hard any of the Elves tried, she would not let them reconnect with her. He brushed the tear away quickly. A pang of jealousy hit him as he thought of Dawn in the arms of the vampire, the vision haunted him almost ceaselessly these days, but his wife's need for him drove his jealousy aside.
For the millionth time since she had returned, Legolas felt anger burning within him. He vowed that if Dawn ever told him for certain who was responsible for her hurting, he would hunt them down and kill them, slowly and painfully.
Dawn didn't notice the Elf silently sit beside her. Legolas tentatively reached out for her.
"Dawn?" he tried to take her hand.
She jumped and yanked her hand away. "Oh," she said a moment later, when she registered who was sitting beside her.
"I'm sorry, Legolas. You startled me," she said lamely.
But Legolas was not listening to Dawn's words. He was staring at her forearm. The loose sleeve of her gown had fluttered up when she's jerked her hand away, and Legolas found himself staring at the exposed underside of her wrist.
Legolas was horrified when he saw the two scars on Dawn's wrist. They were not quite healed, maybe a couple of weeks old, and were no accident. The two slits formed the perfect shape of a cross.
Dawn looked down and too late realised what her husband was so engrossed in. She tried to cover her scars hastily, but he caught her hand in an iron grip. Dawn cried out and tried to break free, but Legolas yanked her roughly to her feet.
"What is this?" he hissed at her. Dawn, too busy struggling against him, did not register the fear in Legolas' voice. He hauled her along the path, half carrying her by her arms when she refused to walk herself, and deposited her firmly in their bedroom.
She stumbled into the room as she was pushed forwards, but Legolas ignored her, turning to lock the door behind him. In a heartbeat, he had seized Dawn by the arm once more.
"Let me go!' she screamed, terrified. She struck out at him, but that only enabled the Elf to take hold of her free arm as well. He pushed the fabric back from her wrist and gasped.
Another cross had been bitten into her skin by a knife. It was identical to the first cuts he'd seen.
Dawn cringed under Legolas' gaze. He was horrified by what he'd seen. She knew he must be disgusted with her, and that it was finally happening. He was going to leave her, there would be no way he could love her now.
With a frown, Legolas began to unlace the bodice of her dress. When Dawn tried to flee from him again, it became too difficult to be gentle. He tore into the fabric, hearing it rip as he forcefully pulled Dawn's clothing from her body. Her will to fight him eventually left her and she allowed him to finish undressing her.
She stood there deathly still, naked and alone, while Legolas went over every inch of her skin with his eyes. She heard his breath catch in his throat as he knelt before her. His finger gently traced one of the six long cuts over her thighs, newer and angrier than those which were beginning to scar her wrists. New cuts. . . cuts she had to have made while she was here, in Mirkwood, at home.
Confusion overcame him. Legolas stood up, looking deep in her eyes. Dawn began to tremble. He wasn't holding her back any more, so she ran for the door, desperate to escape those deep blue wells of pain.
She reached the door, and pulled on it. Nothing happened. She pulled again. It was still closed. Dawn began to yank frantically at the handle, becoming increasingly distressed when the door would not open.
Legolas watched her for a moment, sadly realising that this pathetic figure fighting like a caged animal was not the strong, lively woman he married all those years ago in Minas Tirith. He picked up a blanket from the edge of the bed and went over to her. Dawn was slumped against the door, defeated.
Legolas wrapped her carefully in the blanket. She protested when she felt his hands on her skin, but he ignored her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to let her go.
Dawn eventually stopped resisting him and let him embrace her. A few minutes later, she burst into tears. Legolas led her across the room, lowering her into a sitting position on the bed and adjusting the blanket about her shoulders. He sat beside her and held onto her.
"I'm so sorry," she choked out. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Legolas soothingly stroked her hair, patiently listening. For a moment, all thoughts and traces of jealousy regarding Spike fled from Legolas. His wife needed him now, that was the important thing.
"I love you, Legolas. I know I do. I just. . . don't remember how to anymore. I'm so afraid there's nothing left of me anymore and you're only gonna leave me in the end."
She threw her head back, gulping for air. "I don't want you to leave me, but maybe- maybe. . ." she choked up again. "Maybe you'd be better off without me." She forced herself to look him in the eye. "You deserve someone who not only loves you, but is capable of loving. I'm just not sure I have that in me anymore."
Legolas let go of Dawn. He slid off the bed to rest on one knee in front of her. "Dawn. I love you. I waited for you for thirty three years and now that you're finally here I'm not about to give up on you now! Whatever you've been through, whoever you are, I know you. And I will always love you. I'll be with you forever. Forever," he promised and sealed it with a kiss.
//And when you're in need of someone,
My heart won't deny you.
So bad it seems so long
There ain't no-one left to cry to baby...//
Dawn felt Legolas' mouth pressing softly against hers and was surprised at how good it made her feel. She hadn't felt good in so long, and she found herself responding to him easily.
Legolas felt the kiss deepening and pulled back. He didn't want to rush Dawn. He never wanted to feel anything as awful as their last time together again. "Maybe we should take this more slowly," he breathed, running a hand over her cheek.
But Dawn shook her head. This felt more right than anything she could even remember. "No- please just kiss me?" she asked, longing for him creeping into her soft voice.
Legolas nodded and kissed her again. Dawn leaned back, drawing him into her, not noticing as the blanket slipped away from her shoulders. Legolas melted into Dawn, feeling her fingers scratching lightly against his chest as she worked his tunic off. He let her take her time undressing him, enjoying just the feel of her heartbeat close by his.
This time when they came together, it was a feeling of warmth so beautiful that Legolas felt the tears sliding down his face to mingle with Dawn's. For half a second it caused him concern to see his wife's tears, but when he beheld the flicker of light in her green eyes, he understood her tears were the same as his, and it made him cry that much harder just to know Dawn was feeling. She was alive.
Afterwards, they lay together for a long time, content for the moment just to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies after a lifetime of separation. Legolas found himself pressing butterfly kisses to each of Dawn's cuts and scars, as if willing them to heal by his love. When he was done, he stretched out for Dawn to cuddle into his chest.
Finally, she turned her shining green eyes up to him and answered a question he'd been burning to ask ever since her return. A part of him already knew the answer, but it didn't stop the wave of sorrow that washed over him all the same.
"I lost the baby," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, darling," Legolas murmured, and as he pressed a kiss to Dawn's forehead, she actually believed him
* * * * *
There you go! But I will warn you, we're not quite out of the woods yet. But I'd say this is a big step forwards for their relationship, right? What do you think? R&R, please! ~Anoron
CHAPTER FIFTEEN- CLEANING UP
There was complete silence in the Summers home, save for the occasional sitfled sob coming from one of the women. Buffy sat still as stone, staring into nothingness, a strange sickness settling into the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she focused her gaze, shifting it around the room.
Giles had his glasses off. His eyes were closed and his hand was massaging his temple. There were shiny tracks down his cheeks from the few tears that had trickled down from beneath the closed lids. Xander was pacing in the foyer, his jaw set and his fists clenched by his side, his entire disposition seemed poised for a fight. Unfortunately, it seemed he could find nothing to fight. Willow and Tara were cuddled up together on the couch, sobbing silently into each other's arms. Anguish was written all over their faces. Buffy's eyes raked over the last being in the room, sitting quietly in a corner. Since Dawn's death, Spike had barely spoken two words to any of them, and yet she could tell he wasn't in the complete and utter agony he had been in after Dawn's first death.
Buffy studied Spike's face intently, watching for a sign of any sort of feeling. As the Slayer stared, the shuttered look on Spike's face slowly gave way to a small, contented smile, as if a pleasant thought had just occurred to the vampire. She glared at him, though Spike didn't notice. Buffy fumed silently at Spike's obvious moment of peace. There was no peace left in the world since Dawn was gone, and he had no right pretending there was!
Spike, absently fingering something in his pocket that rustled like a piece of paper, stood and slipped down into his basement room. Barely noticed by the others, Buffy followed.
Spike looked up as he heard Buffy's shoes clunking down the steps and hastily stuffed the crumpled note he'd been reading back into his pocket. Buffy's eyes narrowed.
"What was that?"
"Nothing," Spike said quickly.
"Then why did you hide it?"
Spike tried to give a casual shrug. "Cause it's got nothing to do with you, pet. What are you doing down here, anyway?"
For a moment, Buffy was lost for words. What was she supposed to say? She had come to yell at him because he smiled? Suddenly, angry as she was about everything these days, she realised the insanity of wanting to start a fight over a little smile. "I-. . ."
"You what, luv?"
"Nothing," Buffy said quickly.
Spike quirked an eyebrow at her. "You came charging all the way down here for nothing? Not exactly convincing, Slayer."
Buffy scowled. Anger started to cloud her sense of reason and she glared at Spike as if he was the source of all her troubles. But Buffy had become an open book to Spike a long time ago, and he read every page of her emotions easily.
"Pet, I know you're angry about-" he broke of, still not quite able to say her name. "About what's happened, but you can't just fall back on your usual blame Spike routine. That got old a long time ago."
"Why not!?" Buffy snapped. "It's all your fault! Always has been. If you had protected her the first time like you promised me, she never would have died in the first place!"
The Slayer was ranting without any vestiges of sense or reason, but she didn't care. She'd lost so much in her world, she felt like Dawn was the last thing she had to hold on to, and now she was gone. And it was all Spike's fault. Spike's blue eyes had become a stormy grey at Buffy's accusations. He tried to remain calm, he knew it wasn't true now, but his temper was rapidly heating up as he thought of all that Dawn had endured in the past month at all their hands.
"You failed her too," Spike said quietly.
A heartbeat later he was reeling from the force of Buffy's punch to his jaw. He rubbed his sore face as he turned back, but still managed a sadistic grin at the Slayer.
"Did it make you feel better, luv?"
Buffy hit him again. Then again. Deciding enough was enough, Spike fought back. Soon it had escalated into an all-out battle, Buffy screaming out all her frustrations as her blows rained down on Spike. She screamed for Dawn. For her mother. For Anya. For Miss Calendar. For everyone she'd ever failed. For herself.
Somewhere in Buffy's hysterical rantings, Spike snapped. He fought back with just as much venom as Buffy, and soon the pair were covered in cuts and bruises, and lay panting on the dusty basement floor. Spike was staring at the ceiling, Buffy was glaring at him. Before he could react, she reached over and ripped the piece of paper he had been reading earlier from his pocket.
"Hey!" Spike exclaimed, but it was too late.
Buffy had scrambled to her feet, out of his reach and opened up the piece of paper. It was a note, written in Dawn's handwriting, but that's all Buffy understood of it. A handful of strange words were scrawled across the page, and Buffy felt a stab of recognition at two of them in particular. Alta Nquel. She was sure she'd heard Dawn say that to Spike many times, when they thought she wasn't listening.
By now Spike was back on his feet. He ripped the note from Buffy's hands and stuffed it back into his leather duster. Buffy glared at him, and when she spoke, her voice shook with anger and fear.
"What the hell was that?"
"You don't want to know, luv," Spike responded truthfully.
"Yes I do! She was my sister, Spike. Mine! Not yours, and I have a right to know what that note said."
"Of course you do Buffy, it's all about you after all. Isn't it," Spike sneered. "Look at the Slayer, queen of the world with all the little people running around after her, cleaning up her mess. Of course all their business should be hers too, she's the Chosen One, the one who gets to know it all. Right!?"
"Tell me where she was!"
"She was happy."
The second the words were out of his mouth, Spike froze. He'd just broken his promise to Dawn. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. 'Amin hiraetha, Tarien' he thought, meaning it with all his dead heart. [I'm sorry, Princess]
Spike didn't even see the blow coming. Buffy's fist connected with his temple so hard he slipped into oblivion, knocked unconscious.
* * * * *
// I thought I could live in your world,
As years all went by, I. . .
With all the voices I've heard,
Something has died. . . //
She was sitting in her favourite courtyard again, staring at nothing, lost in her thoughts.
Legolas felt a tear well up in his eye unexpectedly. He missed Dawn. Every time he looked at her, spoke to her or tried to touch her, she pulled away from him. He was terrified to admit had no idea how to reach her anymore. Her eyes, once so vibrant and expressive, were shuttered to him now. He could no longer tell what she was thinking and feeling by a look. Legolas bitterly wondered of she was even feeling anything anymore. Valar knew she wouldn't talk to him. Wouldn't say what had happened to hurt her so badly, who had done this to her. Wouldn't let him in. She hadn't spoken to Arwen or the twins about her pain, either. No matter how hard any of the Elves tried, she would not let them reconnect with her. He brushed the tear away quickly. A pang of jealousy hit him as he thought of Dawn in the arms of the vampire, the vision haunted him almost ceaselessly these days, but his wife's need for him drove his jealousy aside.
For the millionth time since she had returned, Legolas felt anger burning within him. He vowed that if Dawn ever told him for certain who was responsible for her hurting, he would hunt them down and kill them, slowly and painfully.
Dawn didn't notice the Elf silently sit beside her. Legolas tentatively reached out for her.
"Dawn?" he tried to take her hand.
She jumped and yanked her hand away. "Oh," she said a moment later, when she registered who was sitting beside her.
"I'm sorry, Legolas. You startled me," she said lamely.
But Legolas was not listening to Dawn's words. He was staring at her forearm. The loose sleeve of her gown had fluttered up when she's jerked her hand away, and Legolas found himself staring at the exposed underside of her wrist.
Legolas was horrified when he saw the two scars on Dawn's wrist. They were not quite healed, maybe a couple of weeks old, and were no accident. The two slits formed the perfect shape of a cross.
Dawn looked down and too late realised what her husband was so engrossed in. She tried to cover her scars hastily, but he caught her hand in an iron grip. Dawn cried out and tried to break free, but Legolas yanked her roughly to her feet.
"What is this?" he hissed at her. Dawn, too busy struggling against him, did not register the fear in Legolas' voice. He hauled her along the path, half carrying her by her arms when she refused to walk herself, and deposited her firmly in their bedroom.
She stumbled into the room as she was pushed forwards, but Legolas ignored her, turning to lock the door behind him. In a heartbeat, he had seized Dawn by the arm once more.
"Let me go!' she screamed, terrified. She struck out at him, but that only enabled the Elf to take hold of her free arm as well. He pushed the fabric back from her wrist and gasped.
Another cross had been bitten into her skin by a knife. It was identical to the first cuts he'd seen.
Dawn cringed under Legolas' gaze. He was horrified by what he'd seen. She knew he must be disgusted with her, and that it was finally happening. He was going to leave her, there would be no way he could love her now.
With a frown, Legolas began to unlace the bodice of her dress. When Dawn tried to flee from him again, it became too difficult to be gentle. He tore into the fabric, hearing it rip as he forcefully pulled Dawn's clothing from her body. Her will to fight him eventually left her and she allowed him to finish undressing her.
She stood there deathly still, naked and alone, while Legolas went over every inch of her skin with his eyes. She heard his breath catch in his throat as he knelt before her. His finger gently traced one of the six long cuts over her thighs, newer and angrier than those which were beginning to scar her wrists. New cuts. . . cuts she had to have made while she was here, in Mirkwood, at home.
Confusion overcame him. Legolas stood up, looking deep in her eyes. Dawn began to tremble. He wasn't holding her back any more, so she ran for the door, desperate to escape those deep blue wells of pain.
She reached the door, and pulled on it. Nothing happened. She pulled again. It was still closed. Dawn began to yank frantically at the handle, becoming increasingly distressed when the door would not open.
Legolas watched her for a moment, sadly realising that this pathetic figure fighting like a caged animal was not the strong, lively woman he married all those years ago in Minas Tirith. He picked up a blanket from the edge of the bed and went over to her. Dawn was slumped against the door, defeated.
Legolas wrapped her carefully in the blanket. She protested when she felt his hands on her skin, but he ignored her. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to let her go.
Dawn eventually stopped resisting him and let him embrace her. A few minutes later, she burst into tears. Legolas led her across the room, lowering her into a sitting position on the bed and adjusting the blanket about her shoulders. He sat beside her and held onto her.
"I'm so sorry," she choked out. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Legolas soothingly stroked her hair, patiently listening. For a moment, all thoughts and traces of jealousy regarding Spike fled from Legolas. His wife needed him now, that was the important thing.
"I love you, Legolas. I know I do. I just. . . don't remember how to anymore. I'm so afraid there's nothing left of me anymore and you're only gonna leave me in the end."
She threw her head back, gulping for air. "I don't want you to leave me, but maybe- maybe. . ." she choked up again. "Maybe you'd be better off without me." She forced herself to look him in the eye. "You deserve someone who not only loves you, but is capable of loving. I'm just not sure I have that in me anymore."
Legolas let go of Dawn. He slid off the bed to rest on one knee in front of her. "Dawn. I love you. I waited for you for thirty three years and now that you're finally here I'm not about to give up on you now! Whatever you've been through, whoever you are, I know you. And I will always love you. I'll be with you forever. Forever," he promised and sealed it with a kiss.
//And when you're in need of someone,
My heart won't deny you.
So bad it seems so long
There ain't no-one left to cry to baby...//
Dawn felt Legolas' mouth pressing softly against hers and was surprised at how good it made her feel. She hadn't felt good in so long, and she found herself responding to him easily.
Legolas felt the kiss deepening and pulled back. He didn't want to rush Dawn. He never wanted to feel anything as awful as their last time together again. "Maybe we should take this more slowly," he breathed, running a hand over her cheek.
But Dawn shook her head. This felt more right than anything she could even remember. "No- please just kiss me?" she asked, longing for him creeping into her soft voice.
Legolas nodded and kissed her again. Dawn leaned back, drawing him into her, not noticing as the blanket slipped away from her shoulders. Legolas melted into Dawn, feeling her fingers scratching lightly against his chest as she worked his tunic off. He let her take her time undressing him, enjoying just the feel of her heartbeat close by his.
This time when they came together, it was a feeling of warmth so beautiful that Legolas felt the tears sliding down his face to mingle with Dawn's. For half a second it caused him concern to see his wife's tears, but when he beheld the flicker of light in her green eyes, he understood her tears were the same as his, and it made him cry that much harder just to know Dawn was feeling. She was alive.
Afterwards, they lay together for a long time, content for the moment just to reacquaint themselves with each other's bodies after a lifetime of separation. Legolas found himself pressing butterfly kisses to each of Dawn's cuts and scars, as if willing them to heal by his love. When he was done, he stretched out for Dawn to cuddle into his chest.
Finally, she turned her shining green eyes up to him and answered a question he'd been burning to ask ever since her return. A part of him already knew the answer, but it didn't stop the wave of sorrow that washed over him all the same.
"I lost the baby," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, darling," Legolas murmured, and as he pressed a kiss to Dawn's forehead, she actually believed him
* * * * *
There you go! But I will warn you, we're not quite out of the woods yet. But I'd say this is a big step forwards for their relationship, right? What do you think? R&R, please! ~Anoron